


Girls and Things That Make Your Toes Curl

by TheApplesofEpicurus



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dildos, F/F, F/M, Fisting, Light Bondage, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Submissives, Non-Penetrative Sex Toys, POV Second Person, Sex Machines, Sex Toys, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Vibrators, can i get some uhh...fuckin non-rapey erotica, kind of, like a fuckton of sex toys, no...literally, sex spa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 06:10:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheApplesofEpicurus/pseuds/TheApplesofEpicurus
Summary: You decide to take another tour of the same sex toy factory. This time you're going t the Ladies' Floor.





	Girls and Things That Make Your Toes Curl

Sexy Thor in the Blue Wheelchair greets you all at the doors, when you come back the next time. You notice that Calla is the one sitting behind the desk. She glances up and smiles at you when she sees you, and you feel your face heat up in mingled pleasure and embarrassment. 

It’s been two weeks since you came to Quixxxotic Pleasure Technologies and took their first tour, and now, after spending a week rubbing out orgasm after explosive orgasm to the memory of the first tour (and feeling just a little guilty about it, though you feel you aren’t supposed to), you took a week to work up your nerve. Now you’re back to see the women’s floor.  
Memories of the first tour are fresh in your mind, and you jog your leg restlessly in your seat as you wait for the lobby to fill up. This time you hardly glance around at the others; again, though, it’s a pretty diverse crowd. 

You don’t recognize anyone from the first time, and you’re not sure if you should feel good or bad about that.  
Before you can begin to worry too deeply about it--whether or not you can only take the tour a certain number of times before they ban you, orsomething--you finish up your survey, drop it into the slot on the wall, and plop down in your chair.

You can’t bring yoursef to make eye contact with anyone else, and you almost leap to your feet in relief when the guide calls the group to the door. 

To your surprise, Sexy Thor rolls himself to a stop in front of the doors before turning smoothly to face all of you.  
“Good afternoon, everyone! Welcome to our floor tour here at Quixxxotic Pleasure Technologies, the premier sex toy manufacturer! My name’s Tucker, and I’ll be your guide for the day.” he speaks with the same practiced ease Calla had for the first one, pausing now and again to punctuate something with a cheeky wink or a grin. You are vaguely aware that he’s going over the same points she went over, albeit in his own style.

You aren’t paying attention because you’re staring at his chest. Again.  
Today he’s wearing a pale gray shirt and charcoal-colored slacks, and yes, you can still see his nipple barbells clearly. Between that and the way the muscles in his arms and chest shift whenever he gestures with his hands--which is often--you’re already squirming uncomfortably before he even keys in the door-code and lets you all into the first hall.

You spend the entire time in the showroom staring blankly at the wall of dildos, feeling yourself sweating in barely-contained arousal. When the guide calls you, it comes as both a relief and a shock.

This time you go to the same elevator, up and onto a different floor; there’s another little atrium with plants almost completely obscuring the window. The floors are tiled in the same beautiful brown tiles, but the walls are now a pale, delicate mocha-brown.

The guide leads you to the right and down a corridor with splashes of light here and there from overhead lights; overall the lighting is dim, almost mood-lighting. At the hall’s end there is a window, again heavily shaded by plants. The entire environment feels secretive and intimate.  
You swallow in exciement.

Finally, finally, you come to the first door. He punches the keycode in and you all file inside. The air is slightly humid and smells clean, with a vague, lingering smell of cleaning fluid. Underneath that smell is something faint and floral.  
The entire wall in front of you is shielded by a floor-to-ceilign white curtain, identical to the ones on the men’s floor.  
Just thinking about what could be behind it makes your skin heat with excitement.  
The guide turns to the group and addresses all of you.  
“Our first room is, of course, our intake room. Again, I cannot stress enough that any and all recording is strictly prohibited. If you are caught recording, you will be escorted off the premises by security, and your device may be confiscated, as stated in the waiver packet. Positive commentary is appreciated, but not necessary. If you aren’t sure something is positive, please keep it to yourself.” he pauses to look around at the group, but you all just shift on your feet. 

You don’t know about the others, but you’re tense with pleasant excitement and curiosity. You don’t feel talktative at all.  
He continues, “Please be advised that this is, in fact, highly explicit.”  
He pauses again; no one says anything, so he raises the little remote and the white curtains slide open.

There’s a room that, again, looks more like the changing room of a spa or a pool: gray-blue tile floors, pale-gray walls, and cedar wood slat benches. You can see there’s a faint haze of condensation on the glass, as well. At about waist height, and then again about two feet above that, there are familiar wooden rails on the walls, again with the rings for attaching clips.  
Just seeing them makes your stomach tight with eagerness. 

When the women come into the room, you feel yourself actually get butterflies of excitement.  
They are all glistening faintly, as if they just left the shower, and most of them have their hair up in messy, comfortable-looking buns; you see one Black girl pop a showercap off her head and fluff her pouf, laughing at something someone else is saying. Another girl, a pale redhead with her hair pulled back in a loose braid, has the fanciest prosthetic leg you’ve ever seen, the fiberglass etched with beautiful, lacy designs. She also has both nipples pierced, and you cannot help but stare as she raises her arms to pin her braid up around her head. 

There are many others: a chubby olive-skinned girl with very long black hair, wearing a gimp mask with pink kitty ears; a tall, rangy woman with a buzz-cut. Her muscular arms are completely tattooed with elaborate floral tattoos and skull motifs, from her wrists to her shoulders. 

You see, again, that they are all earing wristbands, and different colors. 

Again the attendants are a mix, this time divided evenly, about half men and half women. They’re all carrying plastic bins with enticing shapes showing through them, and you see them take their places in front of the women. This time the attendants are wearing latex or rubber aprons over their white coveralls; you wonder about it for a moment before your mind goes elsewhere--namely back to the roomfu of beautiful naked women.

They make quick work of clipping some of the women into the restraint rails. Many of them just reach back and grab the rail themselves; the attendants don’t clip anyone in who isn’t wearing a wristband a certain color. There must be a system of sme sort in place, but you’re too exicited to try to parse it out.

“What you will see our attendants helping our ladies test today is our Sensational Slick lubricant line. These come in a variety of types--oil-based, water-based, and silicone-based, all the better to match your preferred play-style. There are warming and cooling types, as well.” He paused, and added--because of course it was the burning question to everyone who hadnt been on the men’s floor tour-- “A little restraint every now and then can be helpful. Especially if you need help keeping your hands to yourself at work,” he says.  
The crowd chuckles a little.

The attendants sit down on stools just in front of the women, and they all pull on gloves. A moment later they are slicking their fingers up wiht lube from pump-jars in the plastic boxes.

Some of the attendants stroke the women’s thighs, or bellies, before touching them with slicked fingers; you watch down the whole line as all the different women react to the slow, sliding movements the attendants make.  
They start by cupping the women’s vulvas, apparently to spread the slick everywhere.  
Kitty Hood is already squirming, the attendant working with her smearing the junction of her thighs with the lubricant. 

Tattoo Arms, however, is standing almost perfectly still, her bottom lip between her teeth, while the attendant rubs her pussy, back-and-forth with their palm upwards. Their other thumb rubs circles just on her clit.

One of the women throws her head back and you see her shiver through the beginning of an orgasm; the attendant moves their hand after a short moment and she sags slightl against the restraints. Two attendants come with damp towels and a fluffy white bathrobe and towel her down, before covering her with the robe. 

“As you can see, our lubricant lines do wonders for those who love sensation-play.” the guide is chiming. “You can be the fastest draw in the bedroom, with these!”

After a few moments, some of the women begin riding the attendants’ hands, bucking their hips or grinding down hard on them. Others are standing stock-still with their legs knock-kneed, apparently content to let the attendants get them wet.

It is another few moments before you see the attendants begin to finger some of the women. Pouf is one of them, her mouth open in a wet, soundless noise of pleasure, and you see the attendant’s arm muscles jumping as they slide their fingers in and out. She’s dripping already, long, viscous threads of the clear lube running down the insides of her thighs. 

You glance around and see that many of the attendants have moved onto fingering; Tattoo Arms, however, is not one of them, the attendant instead paying closer attention to her clit. Her head has fallen back agains the rail, though, and you can see tremors of pleasure racing up and down her legs, and the muscles in her lean torso jumping and shifting. 

The other attendants are working two and three fingers in the other women’s pussies, and some of them have pulled out small wand massagers and are toying their clits.  
“The massagers you see in use right now are our Devilishly Discreet line, each the size of a tube of lipstick. Don’t let their small size fool you! Big orgasms come in small packages. These have multiple vibration settings, a seventy-two-hour battery life, and are waterproof down to 50 feet.”

Someone makes an amused scoff, but when you glance over, you see the guide is smiling, but compleetely serious.

You look back a moment later, not wanting to miss anything--and not a moment too soon.  
Fancy Leg is squirming with her head thrown to one side as her attendant rubs a baby-blue chrome massager aainst her clit, effectively holding her in place with the four fingers they still have curled up inside her pussy; you see her squeeze her eyes shut as the attendant backs off, and then presses harder, with the vibrator, until she is working her hips in desperate little circles. She looks like she can’t decide whether to fuck hersef on their fingers, or try to get more contact against her clit--but in a moment her wiggling stills, and you see her eyes drift shut. Abruptly her knees snap together, and you see a gush of fluid jet out of her pussy and splash the front of the latex apron the attendant is wearing. 

After a moment the attendant pulls their fingers out, their hand dripping with her juices, and she takes a deep breath.  
Two attendants hover nearby with towels and a robe ready, but she shakes her head; they disappear into the door in the back. After a moment the attendant strokes her organic leg with the hand they werne’t fingering her with, and she gives the a trembling, pleased grin.

The guise is speaking again a moment later.  
“Our other popular personal lubricant line is our our Everlast Eve. It gives the smoothest ride you can imagine, and comes in five, twelve, and twenty-four ounce bottle sizes.”  
Someone makes a disbelieving noise. “Who needs that much lube?” you hear a voice ask.  
The guide smiles a crooked smile and says, “Some ladies are adventurous. Some just like to be prepared. Some take the large-sized bottles to be…aspirational.”

As he says this, you look back into the room and almost jump straight up, because the attendant working on Kitty Mask is finger-fucking her with all four fingers, making their fingers and thumb into a tight wedge and sliding it in and out of the wet folds of her pussy, grinding in farther and farther with each thrust. She has spread her legs and has her head bowed, her mouth open as she pants in desperate pleasure at what is apparently an amazing feeling. 

You watch, feeling spellbound, as the attendant pushes in another time, their hand inching forward with slow, sliding movements, until suddenly Kitty Mask twitches all over and throws her head back.  
Her pussy swallows the attendant’s hand up to the wrist, and you see her downy black pubes brushing the back of their wrist as they slowly, slowly twist their hand around.

Someone in the tour group is making little breathy gasps. You can’t bring yourself to look away and find out who, this time. 

“And that’s why we suggest our Everlast Eve personal lubricant.For the more…accomplished ladies. It’s specially designed to be non-drying, non-tacky, and with a neutral pH to ensure safety, no matter how long you play.” the guide says.  
Your crotch is tingling with growing excitement.

Before you can get too excited, however, the guide makes a playful, regretful noise.  
“Our product testers are VERY good at their work, and the view is lovely, but we do have to move along. Now, if you’ll follow me this way…”

The curtain slides shut.  
You adjust your pants and surreptitiously undo the first button on your shirt. You just started, and you already know you’re going to be a sweaty mess in a few minutes.


End file.
